


how far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart

by iphigenias



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode 5, Stream of Consciousness, dubious use of star metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 17:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphigenias/pseuds/iphigenias
Summary: Isak and Even in the aftermath.





	how far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart

**Author's Note:**

> it is currently 12:24 am and i have insomnia so i wrote this. i know nothing about broken noses, the composition of stars, or how to fucking capitalise my sentences. title is from yeats. i own nothing. 
> 
> **EDIT 05/06/17:** this fic has now been tidied up (i.e. capitalised) bc the even/Even thing was bugging me A Lot

Isak feels numb. When he looks back on this moment hours, days, even months later, that's the memory that will stick with him, the feeling that's unshakeable in all it's cold absence. He supposes it has to do with the painkillers, mostly. He feels a bit dizzy too, and light, like he could float away if Even just breathes on him wrong, up and up and up until he's nothing but a speck in the sky, in the atmosphere, and even the stars call out to him to come back because he's too far for their light to reach.

But mostly he feels numb.

Even holds his hand the entire way to the hospital. Isak feels his pulse like the wings of a hummingbird, thrumming and thrumming and he wants to tell Even to calm down, tell him it's okay, he's had worse, _I_ _'ve had worse, Even, I'm fine_ , only the words won't come out because Isak is trying not to lie, these days. Honesty is a bitter pill but he's trying. It's hard with the way Even is looking at him, like he is something soft and precious and breakable. It's hard to stay honest when there's so much Isak wants to say.

His nose is broken, that much he knows. The nurse prods at it gently and he winces, squeezing Even's hand tight enough to bruise. The boys are out in the waiting room, and Isak doesn't need the words to tell them how grateful he is, because it's drying in brown clots on his knuckles and crusting on his upper lip and if this is friendship, if this is love, then Isak would take that punch all over again. He looks at Even in the fluorescent light overhead and knows that the blood, the bruised cartilage, the broken bone - it's all worth it. Isak looks at Even and thinks: this is what love feels like.

The numbness comes once they've left the hospital. Even guides him onto the tram that will take them to their flat and Isak feels like floating. The only tether he has now is Even's hand in his, anchoring him, keeping him close. Isak is numb all over but he'll never stop feeling Even.

He texts Sana while he's still awake enough to handle his phone. She's sent him a string of messages sitting in his inbox like unhatched eggs and reading them somehow makes his heart squeeze - not a bad pain but a good one, a kind and honest one, a pain that comes from loving too much. Isak would know. He feels it around Even every day.

He texts Sana _i'm ok. it's not ur fault_. He sends her the thumbs up emoji and locks his phone. Even is looking at him and he's hard to read and it makes Isak feel wrong footed somehow, like the answers are right there in front of him but he just can't reach.

"All good?" Isak asks carefully, shaping his mouth around the words so the painkillers don't slur them together. Even looks stricken and Isak wants to wipe the expression from his face except his left hand is linked with Even's right and his free hand feels weighed down by the drugs and the alcohol and the sense that this here is a moment, A Moment, that Even needs to sort out for himself, and so while Even looks stricken Isak sits on the tram and waits, and wonders how many years it would take for a star to fall to earth, and if he could bring it to Even when it did. (Stars are made up of dust and gas and nothingness, Isak knows this. But Even deserves all the nothingness in the world, if only to remind him that he's something.)

"You shouldn't be asking me that," Even says and his voice is cracked like glass. "I'm not the one with the broken nose."

"I know that," Isak says. They're the next stop. He stands and Even follows like the moon pulls the tide and Isak feels invincible. "But not everything that's broken is visible."

Even looks and looks and looks at him, looks at him so long Isak is afraid he'll disappear. They get off the tram and stand together in the greying evening light. Isak can just make out the stars overhead and they feel cold and numb just like him.

"Can we talk tomorrow?" Even says at last, quiet against the night air. "I just want to go home."

Isak smiles and even though he can't feel his face he knows it's a soft smile. An Even smile. "Okay," he says, and leans into Even's side as they walk down their street hand in hand. Isak is numb, and cold, and star-like. But the sun is also a star, and Even's warmth is pressed up against him like sunlight, and Isak would trade a thousand burning balls of nothingness in the sky just to keep this moment forever. Maybe this is what he'll remember. Not just the numbness, but the feeling too. The parentheses of Even curled around him that all the painkillers in the world can't make him forget.


End file.
